Demons In My Head
by PostitPromise
Summary: Spencer Reid has struggled all his life. He has always been the one to look out for others, taking care of his mother from a young age, and then being responsible for a group of close friends in his dangerous job. One day he decides he's had enough. Little does he know that someone else is struggling as well...can they be saved ? *Note* Chapter Two is about what would have happened


**Prologue**

Spencer's POV

I was quivering with fear and anticipation. This is it, it's all finally going to be over. I thought of the letter I had left the team back at my house, where they would be sure to find it when they went looking for me. The early fall evening was brisk, and I pulled my sweater tighter around me, crunching quickly through the leaves, looking down. A car rushed past me, scaring me as it scattered the dried leaves in my direction. A couple more minutes and I found myself at my final destination; a concrete bridge over-looking a river, a little outside my current residence of Quantico, Virginia. I stood in silence as the last bit of sun drained away with the dusk, looking out over the chilly water, rippling in the stiff breeze. I took a deep, shaky breath, recounting everything that had happened, making sure everything was in place. I knew in my heart that this was my only escape. I had thought about this many times throughout my life, and I now knew this was my last resort, my only option left. Despite the best intentions, I had been teased one too many times, been put-out one too many times, disappointed someone one too many times, took the wrong path one too many times, been brought to the breaking point too many times. I had one time in me left, and this was it.

"When the ground gives way and your world collapses, maybe you just need to have faith. And trust you can survive this. Maybe you just need to hold on tight, and no matter what, don't let go."

Hadley's POV

So many songs were running through my head. So many quotes, so many descriptions, so many lyrics were fighting their way through my thoughts, trying to find a reason. A reason why I shouldn't do what I was about to do. But I couldn't thing of a single meaningful point. Too young wasn't a reason in my book, it was merely a line in a eulogy that people say to commemorate someone who they believe has died before their time. But who's to say when someone should die ? When they feel they are ready, they will go, and nothing anyone says or does can change that. All of this shrouded my thoughts as I walked a lonely path on a dark road, just after the sunset had faded on a cool September evening. I shoved my hands deeper into the pocket of my North Face jacket, feeling numb. I felt a rush of emotion as I stepped onto the concrete overpass, feeling as though every car that passed would know what I was about to do. Like everyone was just waiting to jump out and pull me off the ledge. But of course, no one did. I stepped up, onto the side of the bridge, looking down at my fate.

"When do you throw in the towel? Admit that a lost cause is sometimes just that? There comes a point when it all becomes too much. When we get too tired to fight anymore. So we give up. That's when the real work begins. To find hope where there seems to be absolutely none at all."

"Yes or no. In or out. Up or down. Live or die. Hero or coward. Fight or give in. The human life is made up of choices. Live or die. That's the important choice. And it's not always in our hands."

**Chapter One**

Spencer's POV

I was so focused, so intent on the water below me that I almost didn't see the young girl not seven feet from me, almost didn't hear the slight scuffle of her UGG boots as she stepped onto the ledge. She too, was looking down at her future, or rather, lack thereof. She looked young, not more than sixteen years old. How could someone so young be so broken already ? Then again, at the same age, I too, was quite done with what the world had to offer me. I shook my head to clear my thoughts, she had momentarily distracted me from my original plan. I lifted myself onto the edge of the bridge as well, bouncing on my toes. This was it.

"A sad soul can kill you quicker, far quicker, than a germ."

Hadley's POV

A movement to my left caught my attention, drew it away from my fateful decision making. A young, attractive male was also stepping up onto the side of the overpass. In a twisted sentiment, it felt nice to not be alone, not alone in my actions or my thoughts. I wondered what had driven him to this point. For me, it was just…..everything. Surprising myself, I softly said "Hey." The man looked at me, with these huge, sad doe eyes. They were the eyes of someone who had nothing left to fight with, who was just so emotionally drained that the only emotion left was depression. I knew this because my own eyes held the same expression. He gave me a small smile, and waved a little. I took a chance and stepped toward him, being careful not to fall off of the wrong side. As I walked I held eye contact. He gazed back at me curiously, and stepped towards me as well. I felt a connection to this stranger, not just because we were both about to do the unthinkable. I didn't try to talk him down, I knew it was useless. "Do you want to go together ?" He asked me, looking over at the water. I took his hand and squeezed. "I won't do it if you don't." I stated simply. He looked back at me, and I could see something inside him click. He nodded, and jumped down off the ledge, his feet thudding as they hit the ground. Still holding my hand, he helped me down as well.

"Death isn't the greatest loss in life, it is what dies inside us as we live."

Spencer's POV

Startling me a little, a voice softly said "Hey." I looked towards the girl, the owner of the voice. Her expression was heartbreaking, but I realized that I probably looked the same. I gave her a small smile, and waved in response. She looked to me as if asking for permission, and stepped toward me, holding my gaze the entire time. I looked back with curiosity, and stepped toward her as well. There were no words for this moment, no amount of profiling could have prepared me to talk someone down from this, especially when I was there myself. "Do you want to go together ?" I questioned her tentatively, wanting her to know she wasn't alone. I nodded with my chin toward the cold water below. She grasped my hand and squeezed. "I won't do it if you don't," she stated with a sense of finality. I looked right in her eyes, and I knew then that I couldn't abandon her, not this way. I nodded, jumping down off the ledge, my feet thudding as they hit the ground. Still holding her tiny hand, I helped her down after me.

"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts."

"It isn't just death we have to grieve. It's life. It's loss. It's change. And when we wonder why it has to suck so much sometimes, has to hurt so bad. The thing we've got to try to remember is that it can turn on a dime. That's how you stay alive. When it hurts so much you can't breathe, that's how you survive. By remembering that one day, somehow, impossibly, you won't feel this way. It won't hurt this much."

**Chapter Two**

Derek will blame himself. All of those times calling him pretty boy, had that affected him more than he'd realized ? Had his teasing been the reason for Reid's demise ? How many signs had he missed; the sudden haircut, the mood swings, the random flakiness he sometimes exhibited…. He was supposed to look out for Reid, he was young and fragile, and they were a family. After his kidnapping and after Gideon left, he should have kept a closer eye on him….

"Sometimes it takes a huge loss to remind yourself of what you care about the most."

Aaron will refuse to believe it at first, he will be in denial. At the funeral he will be angry, angry at everything and everyone, but especially God. How can he take Haley and then take Reid, so soon ? Then his confusion will take over. It will constantly be weighing on the back of his mind, affecting his work performance. He will re count everything he had said to Reid over the last few weeks and days, wondering if something he had said had sent him over the edge. He will comfort everyone else, but he himself will suffer in silence.

"Sometimes you have to give yourself permission to not be hardcore for once. You don't have to be tough every minute of every day."

Penelope will be inconsolable. She will return to work much later than the others, taking a longer leave of absence. Everything will remind her of him; books, coffee, math, science, work….. This will continue for the rest of her life, the loss will be there with her every day. Who she is entirely is altered, her rare optimism is now gone forever. If she hadn't known how the team felt now, she would probably have committed suicide herself as well.

"Letting go is the easy part, it's the moving on that's painful. So sometimes we fight it, try and keep things the same. Things can't stay the same though. At some point, you just have to let go. Move on. Because no matter how painful it is, it's the only way we grow."

JJ will disbelieve that it was suicide. She will always think that Dilaudid had something to do with it, that he was using when he did it, that it wasn't really his decision, it was the narcotics. She will cry the hardest at the funeral, because she can't stop thinking of all the times she turned him down for dates, and for things that would make him happy, such as comic con. She will never tell anyone about her theory of it not being suicide, and when she has her first-born child, he will be named Spencer Reid LaMontange.

"We often lead ourselves to believe the lie, for fear of facing the truth."

Emily will feel numb for weeks, trying to cut herself off from the intense loss; it will be the only way she can cope. Every night she will drink more wine than necessary to keep the pain from overwhelming her, and she will throw herself into her work during the day. She is the one who will sort through Reid's things. All of it will be kept in a storage locker near the headquarters. Every day she writes imaginary letters to Reid, pretending he is away on a trip, perhaps visiting his mother. She will continue to do this every day for two years, and to this day she still has them, in a box beneath her bed.

"Time can heal,but scars only hide the way we feel."

Dave will be the one who writes the letters to both Spencer's mother and Gideon informing them of the tragedy. He doesn't have as much history with Reid as the others, but he feels the tremendous loss just the same. He cooks dinner for the team for weeks, packaging it in separate containers for each person to take home when they don't eat together at the headquarters. He is careful about mentioning anything that could trigger the memory of their dear deceased friend, and he hides any article he can find about his death, out of courtesy.

"I've always heard every ending is also a beginning. I'd like to believe that's true."

Diana Ried, tragically, receives the news on a day when she is lucid. She will scream for hours, and cry hysterically for days before she relapses into episodes. On days when she is non-lucid, she will wait for letters from her late son, unaware that the one she is handed is one she has read before. When her episodes cease, and she remembers her only child is dead, she will be devastated to the point of catatonia, and this will continue throughout her life. Years after her son has died, she will be laid to rest beside him. The two graves are visited at least once a day.

"In the face of what we can lose in a day, in an instant, wonder what the hell it is that makes us hold it all together."

William Reid will be deeply saddened by the news, yet somehow still detached from the son he never really knew.

"The ties that bind are sometimes impossible to explain. They connect us even after it seems like the ties should be broken. Some binds defy distance and time and logic, because some ties are simply meant to be."

Jason's faith in humanity is once again irreparably impaired, this time permanently. He will blame himself for leaving , although it was years ago and not logical. (Gideon left when Reid was twenty, Reid was twenty-four when he died.) He will wish every day that he had sent more letters to him, visited him more often. He will regret not respecting him or praising him enough when they worked together, and when he dies at the age of seventy, he will be laid to rest in the same cemetery as Spencer and Diana Reid.

"What's worse? New wounds which are so terribly painful? Or old wounds which should have healed years ago and never did? Maybe our old wounds teach us something. They remind us where we've been and what we've overcome. They teach us lessons about what to avoid in the future. That's what we like to think, but that's not the way it is, is it? Some things you just have to learn over and over and over again."

"According to Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, when we're dying or have suffered a catastrophic loss, we all move through five distinct stages of grief. We go into denial because the loss is so unthinkable we can't imagine it's true. We become angry with everyone, angry with survivors, angry with ourselves. Then we bargain. We beg. We plead. We offer everything we have, we offer our souls in exchange for just one more day. When the bargaining has failed and the anger is too hard to maintain, we fall into depression, despair, until finally we have to accept that we've done everything we can. We let go. We let go and move into acceptance. In life, we have a hundred lessons that teach us how to fight off death, and not one lesson on how to go on living."

**Chapter Three**

Hadley's POV

I stepped down beside this mysterious stranger, looking up at him. He was very tall, and now I could make out his features a lot better near the dim glow of the fluorescent street lamp. He had a perfect, adorable nose, and beautiful, pale pink lips, and of course his eyes were large and hazel, almost childlike. They still held a lot of depth to them; and looking into them I truly believed the quote "The eyes are the window to the soul."

I smiled a half-hearted smile at him. "I'm Hadley." "I'm, uh, I'm S-Spencer Reid…" I sat down on the ledge, and he sat beside me. "How did we end up like this ?" A sigh escaped his lips, and he turned to me. "I don't know." He told me, and his voice rang with his honesty.  
I looked at my phone, it was now about 8:30. I had made the journey here around 7….. "I told my mom that I was staying at a friend's tonight…." I thought aloud. He looked at me, as if he was contemplating something. "Would you….like to go get some coffee with me ?" He asked me, sounding unsure of himself. He looked at me, his eyes almost….hopeful. It was quite a thing of sheer beauty, something to admire, really, to see a stranger so ready to leave everything behind, but yet so willing to recapture that abandoned hope once again and help out a complete stranger. I nodded at him, replying definitively "Yes."

We walked downtown a ways, in silence. Not the kind of awkward, suffocating silence you endured on your first real date back in seventh grade, no, the good, totally comfortable silence that only old friends seem to have. He held open the door for me when we arrived at a small, cozy café. I wordlessly grabbed us a table, and he ordered us some sugary coffee drinks. I looked at my reflection in the picture window beside our table, listening to the jazz music they were playing. My pale green eyes looked defeated, and my new short hair was wind-tossed and curly, hanging just below my chin. I had gotten a haircut two weeks ago, when I finally realized that I was really going to commit suicide. I actually liked it though, it was a pretty, bob-like style. My thoughts were interrupted as Spencer came back, handing me a latte with whipped cream on top. He sat across from me, dumping packet after packet of sugar into his regular coffee. I said nothing, because I myself have been known to go on extreme sugar binges in times of distress. We got to talking over our coffee, and I found out that he worked for the FBI. He was also a resident genius, with an eidetic memory and an extremely high IQ. I felt very insignificant after that, and I think it showed, because he looked at me and said "You saved my life."  
In addition to feeling insignificant, I also felt like my problems weren't that big of a deal anymore, and not in a good way. Because as Spencer told me about his job, I could see why he had chosen to commit suicide. I mean, after seeing what he had seen, I would be messed up too. My little teenage problems seemed so trivial now, I almost felt like crying. But he didn't seem to care. I was very glad that I had saved his life, because unlike me, he actually meant something to this world. He made a difference.

"People say that what we're all seeking is a meaning for life. I don't think that's what we're really seeking. I think what we're seeking is an experience of being alive."

Spencer's POV

"I told my mom that I was staying at a friend's tonight…." She told me, breaking the silence. I looked at her, wondering whether I should take her to get some coffee. "Would you….like to go get some coffee with me ?" I finally asked her, sounding unsure, even to myself. I looked to her for a response. She thought for a moment, before nodding at me, replying definitively,"Yes."  
We walked on a small path through the park nearby the bridge, heading towards town. I stuck close to her, shying away from the darkness. I wonder if she noticed. The walk was a peaceful silence, like the hush of the library in the afternoon. I held the door open for her when we arrived at our destination. Without saying a word, she grabbed us a table for two by the front window, and I headed for the counter to order. As I stood in line, I contemplated how I should have been the one to save her from suicide, not the other way around. I was older than her, after all. But she had been the one to gracefully lure me off the ledge, while I had tried to drive her to it. What was wrong with me ? My thoughts ceased as I ordered a plain coffee for myself and a latte drink for Hadley. I headed for our table, seating myself on one of the tall iron stools before handing her her drink. I began dumping packet after packet of sugar into my coffee, listening to the soft jazz music and the murmur of voices of the few other patrons. We began chatting over our coffee, and I informed her that I worked for the FBI. I hadn't meant to spill my IQ and such, but it just seemed right.

She listened intently, seeming genuinely interested. Her gaze never wavered, even when she was sipping her drink. In the light, I could see that she was a pretty little girl, with a short, curly haircut, hair the color of honey and cornsilk, with light green eyes. She wore dark skinny jeans tucked into her boots and a black zip up jacket. I was glad that for once, someone seemed to actually care what I had to say. I mean, of course my co-workers did, but that was because the information I spilled out was relative to the case, it would help save lives. If I wasn't a part of the BAU,they probably wouldn't give me the time of day.

"At some point you will realize that you have done too much for someone, that the only next possible step to do is to stop. Leave them alone. Walk away. It's not like you're giving up, and it's not like you shouldn't try. It's just that you have to draw the line of determination from desperation. What is truly yours will eventually be yours, and what is not, no matter how hard you try, will never be."

"Everyone wants happiness, and no one wants pain, but you can't have a rainbow without a little rain."

**Chapter Four**

Hadley's POV

After a while at the coffee shop, I could tell he was squirming uncomfortably in his seat, obviously wondering what to do with me. I couldn't very well show up at my house now, so I pretended to text a friend. I could see relief on his face when I told him that I would actually stay with a friend for the night. I ended up having to hail a cab, because he insisted on seeing me leave safely. We exchanged numbers for when we were feeling severely depressed again, and I waved goodbye out the cab window as I rode away. I had the cab driver drop me off on the other side of the park. Sighing, I prepared to spend the night sleeping on a bench. I laid down on the hard wooden bench, thinking of what an okay night it actually turned out to be. Not all of my problems had vanished, but I wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet anymore. My current sleeping arrangement was less than desirable, but I was glad for the time alone to think. I was also grateful for the decent weather. I hoped that Spencer was feeling the relief that I was; suddenly my life wasn't about me anymore. It was about making sure he had the best life he could have. I felt like I owed it to him to look after him now, because if I hadn't met him…I wouldn't be here right now.

"We enter the world alone, and we leave it alone. And everything that happens in between, we owe it to ourselves to find a little company. We need help. We need support. Otherwise, we're in it by ourselves. Strangers, cut off from each other, and we forget… just how connected we all are. So instead, we choose love, we choose life, and for a moment, we feel just a little bit less alone."

Spencer's POV

I began the short walk back to my apartment right after I watched the cab pull away. I hurried as fast as I could, head down the whole way. I undressed quickly and climbed into bed when I reached home, turning off the light; hoping to get to sleep quickly. I had thought my dark thoughts to be eradicated, but I was wrong. Alone in the dark, my mind replayed a nightmare loop of what went wrong yesterday. And all of the days before that. That's the trouble with my mind; it won't ever forget.

I almost broke down and called Hadley three times during the night. I slept fitfully when I did sleep, having horrid nightmares about her jumping off the bridge, and of my team standing behind me, urging me to jump. I finally gave up and headed to the office early, glad that today was a weekday; it would provide distraction. But today was Friday, and I had no idea how I was going to get through the weekend.

Doubt began to fill my mind. I suddenly began to question everything around me. Were my co-workers really being sincere ? Did my mother ever regret having me ? Did my team regret having to save me so many times, did they regret having to take care of the 'kid' ? How many people would actually care if I was gone ? I walked around in a thoughtful daze, speaking only when spoken to. At lunch, I was questioned relentlessly, everyone asking me over and over to spill what was eating me. Any other day, I might have. But I was done with being a burden, and I didn't feel like being comforted and placated right now. Nevertheless, I accepted the invitation to go for drinks with them after work. I knew I wouldn't be able to handle being alone right now.

"There comes a time when every life goes off course. In this desperate moment you must choose your direction. Will you fight to stay on the path? Will others tell you who you are? Or will you label yourself? Will you be haunted by your choice? Or will you embrace your new path? Each morning you choose to move forward, or to simply give up."

Hadley's POV

I walked home around nine o'clock. It was a Friday morning, so no one was home. The last thing I needed was more alone time to think, but I figured Spencer would be at work. Every Friday night, my friends and I would sing at local places around town. We were typical teenagers, a group of five including me, who dreamed of being famous one day. No one knew that I was depressed, I was just an ordinary girl. I wasn't struggling with a self-mutilation problem or an eating disorder. I didn't fake happiness and smiles around my friends; that was genuine. It was when I was alone that I had the problem. Also, no one knew the real reason why I made sure to have plans EVERY Friday night. My biological father was killed in a shooting when I was one years old, and ever since I was four, my mom has been dating Richard. Now, don't get me wrong, Richard is great; both my parents are. Richard has basically raised me, and I consider him a father in every way, I call him Dad without a thought. But every Friday night, to celebrate the weekend, my parents go out for dinner and come home drunk. Every other day, my Dad is super sweet. But when he's drunk, it's a whole different story. My Mom usually watches something on the couch and passes out within the hour, but my Dad will stay up for hours afterward. He gets really angry over little things, I never know what will set him off. Most of the time, he takes his anger out on me…..by hitting me.

I never think about telling my mom or bringing it up when he is sober; because things are great then, why would I want to change that ? I honestly don't even think my Dad remembers when he is sober. Deep down inside, I know another reason why I don't mention it; because if drunken words are sober thoughts, then does that apply for actions too ? What if somehow, I asked for all of this ?

"People who claim that they're evil are usually no worse than the rest of us. It's people who claim that they're good, or anyway better than the rest of us, that you have to be wary of."

"The real challenge is not to survive. Hell, anyone can do that. It's to survive as yourself, undiminished." ~ Elia Kazan

**Chapter Five**

Hadley's POV

I spent the day rehearsing for the show, glad for the day off school, due to parent teacher conferences. I wondered at least once an hour how/what Spencer might be doing, eager to receive a text from him. I was pretty sure that I would hear from him within the next couple of days, and I checked my phone incessantly. Around five o'clock, I changed into ripped skinny jeans and a tight black v-neck, with two inch heels. We all wore variations of the same thing for our 'gigs.' My parents had gotten off work early, therefore going out to eat early as well, thus arriving home right before I left. I tried to slyly head out the door, but I couldn't slip past them in their drunken stupor. My Dad took one look at me and said I looked like a whore. I tried futilely again to edge out the door past him, but he took one steadying hand off of the end table near the door, using it to smack me across the face. The force of the blow knocked me down, and my Dad took the opportunity to kick me while I was down, literally. He landed two firm kicks on my ribs and then my right wrist before I scrambled up and out the door. I sighed as I walked down the driveway, gingerly rubbing my sore wrist. I checked my reflection in a car window on the way into town, happy to see my appearance was basically unblemished by the tussle, except for a slight bruise beginning to blossom across my face. But in the dim light inside the bar, my friends would be none the wiser.

I still stuck with my decision that keeping quiet about the abuse was the right thing to do. It was only once a week, and not that bad anyways….right ? Surely no one would listen to a fifteen year old girl rambling about 'abuse', they would assume I was doing to for attention, or maybe in revenge against the man who wasn't even my real father. It was just easier to keep quiet.  
Now, I know what you're thinking, that they shouldn't be letting fifteen year olds into the bar right ? Well, it was a small town, and we were limited to a movie theater, a roller rink, and a few restaurants and bars as our sources of entertainment. So, we were limited on where we could do our gigs as well. I helped my friends set up their equipment, we had a bass, a drummer, a guitarist, and two singers, me being one of them. A dinner crowd had already begun to form, the show would start in half an hour at six-thirty. It went off without a hitch, with a cover of Secondhand Serenade's "It's Not Over." As I sang, I looked out into the crowd, pretending that I was a real rockstar. As I did so, I could swear I saw a familiar face. I kept singing, turning away from the crowd a little to keep myself from getting distracted. We took a short break after that, and I casually accompanied my friend in getting some soda from the bar. We passed by a table full of attractive men and women, and I knew. It was Spencer and his team.

Now, there was no way I could alert my friend to hide me, because then she would have to know how I knew Spencer. I wondered if he knew it was me, and decided to sneak a quick glance behind me. He was looking back at me too; he definitely knew. I winked at him and ran back onstage and we started our next set. All of our songs seemed appropriate for last night, and as I sang them I looked straight at Dr. Reid, as if I was singing TO him. I sang more from my heart than I ever had that night, and my friends noticed. At the next break at about 8:00, we all sat backstage together, eating the complementary food. Our drummer, Keely looked at me and wiggled her eyebrows, "So who's the guy ?" I almost choked on my food. "What ?! There is no guy !" Which was technically true, in the sense she was asking. I wasn't going to date Spencer, now or ever. We had an attraction that couldn't be explained towards one another, because we had experienced something painful and bonding together. And that probably wouldn't ever go away. We were silent after that, and I thought about how strange it was to think that I had almost killed myself last night. Somehow, now I was seeing everything differently, although Spencer had never really said anything to me that was particularly inspiring. I think it was more the feeling of having someone who knew me at my darkest and still accepted me, who could relate to everything that had gone down last night. For once, I was glad that my parents only very rarely attended my shows. I self consciously rubbed my cheek, letting out a deep breath. I got up, finally deciding to go greet my new friend.

"Character is who you are under pressure, not who you are when everything is fine."

"These violent delights have violent ends."~ William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

**Chapter Six**

Spencer's POV

The team and I entered one of the only bars in town, the place to be on a Friday night. It was one of the few times that the entire BAU team had all gone out for drinks. We sat at a large table big enough to fit the eight of us. A waitress dressed in a low-cut shirt and short shorts came over right away, standing near Morgan and purposely leaning over him to hand out menus. We ordered drinks, and some burgers and fries. I was so absentminded that I had just picked the first thing I saw on the menu, which luckily everyone else deemed an appropriate Friday-night-out choice. I ordered a Bud Light too, even though I knew I wouldn't drink it. Things were going well, and I felt like I was socially included for once. I tried to focus on what the guys were saying as they chattered about ball games and beer and burgers and girls. Morgan tapped me on the shoulder, pointing to the tv screen "Just look at that pass !" It was some football game, but I wasn't even aware who was playing who or who was winning. I nodded and grinned, and he slapped me on the back. Our food arrived and I picked at my burger, still trying my hardest to stay included in the conversation. The emcee announced tonight's performance, some band consisting of teenage girls called "Never Again." They would be doing covers of songs neither the team or I had ever heard of, because we were always stuck in the office. The lead singer was pretty good, and I happened to glance up at her. I choked on my French fry, because for a minute, I could swear she was Hadley. But I was obviously just deluding myself into thinking I was seeing her everywhere. Gideon slapped me on the back, and I safely swallowed my fry. I smiled slightly in thanks, and looked back up at the girl again. She was looking at me too. I couldn't mistake those eyes, that WAS Hadley. I couldn't believe it, what were the odds ? Maybe fate really had intervened this time.

She continued on with her singing for a few more songs, her eyes never leaving me. She was an excellent singer, and the band was good too. When she left the stage for break, I couldn't help but hope she would approach me. When she didn't emerge, I almost couldn't hide my disappointment. Just when something had been going right in my life… You just can't replace someone who saved your life. They altered the path of your life forever, directly changed its course. She gave me a second chance, and I wasn't about to let that slip away. But I guess fate fell short.

At the end of the day, when it comes down to it, all we really want is to be close to somebody.

—

Meredith Grey, Grey's Anatomy

Too many high hopes, too many disappointments.

Chapter Seven

Hadley's POV

My friends followed suit behind me as I made my way over to the table containing Spencer and his co-workers. They all looked exactly as Spencer described them to me. His back was turned to me, but I could tell something was wrong. I wondered if he didn't want me to approach him. I almost stopped flat in my tracks and turned right around. He was probably praying I wasn't going to embarrass him in front of his peers. Maybe he was avoiding me ? My heart started pounding in my chest as I slowed my pace, drawing in a shaky breath and trying to gather my courage. Suddenly, I could hear everything as if it was amplified; my heartbeat, my friends whispers behind me, the televisions broadcasting sports coverage, the chatter of other patrons and the clinking of dishes and bottles. I felt as if everything moved in slow motion, just for a moment. Like for one minute, as I looked at my savior, time slowed just a little, to capture the moment. It felt as if my Earth stood a little stiller.

I was so focused on the bliss that I didn't see the piece of lettuce that had fallen on the floor in front of me only minutes before. My heels slid and I stumbled, falling face first- into the back of Spencer's chair. My previous bruise was directly hit, and in a way I was glad. Now people would think that was how I had acquired it ! At the same time, it hurt like a bitch, not to mention the embarrassment I would suffer for this. My friends were cracking up to the side, and I was still on the floor awkwardly splayed out. Spencer was trying to edge out of his chair since he couldn't scoot back because he would squish me, and someone else was helping me up. Spencer stood and pulled me to the side. I hung my head in shame. I had done the thing that I had set out to specifically NOT do- embarrass him.

He pulled me by the arm next to an old jukebox. There was something in his eyes that I couldn't recognize. He tilted my head towards the light, mumbling about getting me some ice. He called to one of his friends for it, and then he turned his attention back to me. "Are you okay ?" He finally asked, sounding a little….anxious. He swallowed. "I'm so sorry !" HE was apologizing to ME ! "For what ?!" I asked shrilly. "I'm the one who embarrassed you in front of everyone ! I'm so sorry, Spencer, for real. I shouldn't have come up to you….sorry for being so clingy….." His friends joined us then, and he said nothing, but he kept shooting me meaningful glances as he introduced me as "someone he ran into at the coffee shop last night." I rubbed my cheek self-consciously. His friend, who he introduced just as "Gideon", walked up and peered at my cheek. He too, tilted my head, angling it towards the light. He pointed out my bruise and whispered to his cranky-looking co-worker "Hotch." I saw Spencer casually edge closer to them. His mouth opened in a small "o". I looked around for MY friends, for them to come and save me, but to no avail. They were probably gossiping about the sexy, muscular black guy with the group I was talking to now. We didn't have to go on set for another ten minutes, so I was stuck.

."

Spencer's POV

I broke out of my depressed reverie as something forcefully smashed into my chair. My hands flew out to steady myself and my beer knocked everywhere. I tried to turn around, but my chair was being pushed against the table by something. My team jumped up as I continued to try and see what was going on. Finally, I slid sideways out of the bar stool chair, only to look down and see Hadley being helped up off the floor by Prentiss ! My immediate thought was whether or not she was okay. After last night, seeing her so dejected, but yet so willing to help me out of my dark time, I was eager to come to her aide whenever she needed me. I grabbed her arm and quickly tugged her out of earshot of my team, who stood whispering and staring openmouthed after us. I slanted her head toward the light, muttering about getting her some ice. I asked Garcia to retrieve it for me, and then turned my attention back to Hadley. "Are you okay ?" I finally asked. I swallowed harshly. "I'm so sorry !" I burst out. "For what ?!" She asked, her voice rising a few octaves. "I'm the one who embarrassed you in front of everyone ! I'm so sorry, Spencer, for real. I shouldn't have come up to you….sorry for being so clingy….." The other BAU members friends joined us then, and I kept quiet. I awkwardly introduced her as someone who I had run into at the coffee shop last night. Hadley kept touching her injured cheek, and Gideon squinted at it, the approached her. His friend, who he introduced just as "Gideon", walked up and peered at my cheek. He angled it, as I had, towards the light. He then turned and whispered something to Hotch. I shifted toward them without giving it another thought, trying to hear. I stiffened as I realized what Gideon had just said was true. Her cheek wouldn't begin to bruise already; she had only fallen a few minutes ago. I was so busy trying to comfort her emotionally I had missed the obvious; something was definitely wrong here. The contusion hadn't been there last night, and it hadn't been from her fall… I sighed, once again, I had failed to protect her.

"You could learn to hate and fear the word love pretty easily in my world. It was another word for betrayal and an elegantly detailed carving knife to whittle down to bones. It'd have to be a pretty knife, something so gorgeous it was breathtaking. I imagined love was a beautiful thing even in all its ugliness." ~ Pandora Aleykettos

He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. _I am not sad,_ he would repeat to himself over and over, _I am not sad_. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others-the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. _I am not sad. I am not sad. _Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. _I am not sad._"

Chapter Eight

Hadley's POV

Spencer looked at me, and pulled me to the side again. "Be honest with me. What happened to your face ?" he asked me seriously. I was denying it even to myself, that things had gotten this bad. And so I lied.

"I fell earlier, at my house, when I was rehearsing. You saw me fall a few minutes ago, I'm obviously a klutz. It was stupid, it's nothing, I swear." I looked him right in the eye, the lie rolling right off my tongue. I felt horrid and rotten inside, after he had asked me to my face to be straight with him, and I flat-out lied. Luckily, I scampered off to get ready for the next set. My friends practically attacked me backstage. I was bombarded with questions like "Oh my God ! Did you see the muscular one ?" and "Who WAS that ?". I rushed onstage and pretended to adjust my microphone, so that no one could ask me anything else that I wasn't prepared to answer. The cue for us to begin again came, and I flip-tousled my newly short hair, preparing to channel all of my emotion into the show.

I'm not afraid to admit that when my friends and I do gigs, I pretend I'm an actual rock star. I mean, not very many things make me happy anymore, might as well get what I can, right ? After the show, my friend's mom drove me home. Luckily, Reid and his posse left before we did, so there were no more confrontations. I stepped onto my driveway, waving goodbye as I headed toward the house. I prayed that my dad would be asleep, but I could smell the liquor as soon as I entered the house. As predicted, my mom was asleep already, as it was around eleven o'clock. My dad was calmly seated at the kitchen table, still drinking, if you can believe it. He really let loose on the weekends…. I walked casually past him to my room, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn't say anything. I closed my bedroom door behind me and quickly changed into plaid pajama pants and a large sleep shirt. I was such a dork at night, because I had to wear retainers and glasses. None of my friends even knew about them, and I was glad. Only my parents were allowed to see me looking like this. I flopped onto my bed, sighing. My face was starting to throb, and I knew I'd never be able to sleep. I thought about turning out the light to try and drift off, because leaving the light on tricks your body into thinking it is daytime, but I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts in the dark. I tried to focus on making plans for the weekend, but my mind kept going back to the other night, the night on the bridge. Should I have jumped ? Did I make the right decision ? Before I made my way to the bridge, suicide had seemed like the right decision. But after I met Spencer, NOT jumping had seemed like the right choice. I just didn't know anymore.

My mind slowly numbed, and I slipped into a dreamless slumber, thankfully. I awoke in the morning to the smell of pancakes, and I knew it was going to be a good day. I got up, stretched, and got dressed. I walked in the kitchen to see my mom and dad kissing. I laughed, pretending to clear my throat. My mom patted my hair, and I sat at the table with her. "Oh, sweetie, what happened ?" She asked me. I forced another laugh, and told her about how I had fallen at the bar last night. Her and my dad both chuckled as I told them about how I had crashed into "some hot guy's chair." As I re-told the story, I could feel the embarrassment creep up on me again as I thought of my friends' laughter. But I just faked a smile and pushed through it.

"There is some kind of a sweet innocence in being human- in not having to be just happy or just sad- in the nature of being able to be both broken and whole, at the same time."  
― C. JoyBell C

Spencer's POV

I watched with sad eyes as Hadley ran to the stage to finish her performance. The team all exchanged glances, and we sat back down again. Morgan ordered us all another round, and I was glad that my first beer had spilled, so that I hadn't had to even attempt to force it down. I again made my weak efforts to socialize, and again failing miserably. What was the point any more, why did I even try ? It got me nowhere. All I did was try and try at everything, only to be brought to my knees by my failures time and time again. There's gotta be more to life than this.

Hotch drove me home shortly before the show ended, we all wanted to get home a little early and get some rest in case the rare Saturday call came in. I entered my apartment and immediately stripped off all of my work gear, changing into pajamas my mother had sent me not to long ago, on one of her rare lucid days. They were two pieces, button up, and very comfortable. I changed my socks as well, hoping to brighten my mood, to one orange and one yellow. I made some coffee, because I knew I wouldn't be getting much sleep anyway. I turned the tv to a discovery channel special, and settled into my old, worn armchair. I had my tv set to subtitles, so that I would always remember what I had learned. The next thing I knew, it went from being 11:00 to 4AM. I reluctantly turned off the television and washed my third cup of coffee out. I climbed into bed, praying for immediate sleep that didn't come. I had nightmares all night long of my kidnapping, especially of my Dilaudid use.

When I woke up in the morning, the sun was shining like a new penny, and my mood brightened instantly. I poured some cereal and sat down at the table, located near the window, looking out of the city. I was on one of the top floors, so I had a great view. For the first time in a while, I found myself smiling without having to force it.

"I realized I would always be missing something. That no matter what I did, I would always be missing something else. And the only way to live, the only way to be happy, was to make sure the things I didn't miss meant more to me than the things I missed."~ David Levithan

"For how imperiously, how coolly, in disregard of all one's feelings, does the hard, cold, uninteresting course of daily realities move on! Still we must eat, and drink, and sleep, and wake again, - still bargain, buy, sell, ask and answer questions, - pursue, in short, a thousand shadows, though all interest in them be over; the cold, mechanical habit of living remaining, after all vital interest in it has fled."  
― Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom's Cabin

Chapter Nine

Hadley's POV

I spent the day literally just wandering around. My friends tend to sleep all day after a gig, and I wasn't about to spend a Saturday with my parents, at home. So I got all ready and left the house around 11AM. The first thing I did was go down to the water. In a non-threatening way this time. I went back to the same park, because it was so beautiful in the fall. There's nothing better than spending a gorgeous fall day outside, in your favorite pair of jeans and a comfortable hoodie. I gazed around at the breathtaking sights before me as I strolled calmly through residential streets. The leaves were perfect shades of crimson, pumpkin, and sunshine yellow. Arriving at the park, I walked carefully down the rocks toward the edge of the water. The last thing I needed was to fall and injure myself again. I fed some bread to the ducks, and they swam closer. I crouched near the water, feeling a peace I haven't felt in a while come over me. It felt strange to be so calm for once, to have all of my thoughts quieted. My thoughts and emotions had been so up and down lately, and I wasn't sure I could blame it entirely on being a teenage and having hormones. I felt….old, wise, beyond my years. I wasn't sure if every teenager felt like that, but most of the time I felt like an old soul, but at the same time, I couldn't look at the world with the same experience that adults had. I could only see it through the eyes of a misunderstood, young girl, who had the mind of a philosopher.

And once again, my over-thinking had perished my happiness. I sighed, rocking back on my heels. I looked up at the sky, deep in thought as usual. I wondered if I would ever see Spencer again. I mean, just because we met one night doesn't make us soul mates. Feeling nostalgic for the feeling I had felt the night I had been saved by Spencer, I started walking toward the coffee shop we went that night. I didn't look back.

"The sadness of the world has different ways of getting to people, but it seems to succeed almost every time."  
― Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Journey to the End of the Night

Spencer's POV

After a while cleaning up my apartment, I knew I needed something to occupy my mind with. The dark thoughts would come back if I was being too idle. I hastily threw on my coat and rushed out the door, locking it behind me. I started walking briskly down the stairs away from my apartment, out into the beautiful day.

I thought of how energetic my mood had been this morning compared to the dreary aura I was exuding now. I sighed, shuffling down the sidewalk, eyes on my shoes. How was I going to get through the weekend ? It was only early Saturday morning and the demons in my head were already torturing me. They spouted facts, statistics, memories, quotes and answers until I thought my skull would burst from information overload. I was walking, walking to anywhere as I desperately hoped that the cool breeze would soothe my pained head. The headaches had returned with a vengeance, throbbing more than ever. I couldn't focus, I was breathing hard, my vision blurring, my thoughts and pulse racing. But I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop thinking, I couldn't stop walking, I couldn't stop BREATHING. No matter how much I wanted to sometimes.

Was this depression ? Was this psychosis ? Was this bipolar disorder ? Or was it something more ? Something unexplained ? Maybe this was what heartbreak felt like.

I slyly looked around me, at the people just walking by me like it was an ordinary day, while my world was crashing down, crumbling around me. I had kept everything from my past bottled inside me, and now it was coming raging out like a ferocious animal. It was consuming my life. All of my hurt and embarrassment and….. just everything. I didn't have anyone to vent to, I didn't have any family or friends. It's been just me, all my life. But I can't do this anymore. I can't go on living like this. My heart was pounding and everything was rushing in my ears, but one sound stood out to me- a shrill, almost ringing sound. My mind snapped into focus as I realized what it was, and I turned just as a large SUV slammed into me.

_"Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it." - Michel de Montaigne_

"Or perhaps is is that time doesn't heal wounds at all, perhaps that is the biggest lie of them all, and instead what happens is that each wound penetrates the body deeper and deeper until one day you find that the sheer geography of your bones - the angle of your hips, the sharpness of your shoulders, as well as the luster of your eyes, the texture of your skin, the openness of your smile - has collapsed under the weight of your griefs."  
― Thrity Umrigar, The Space Between Us

**Chapter Ten**

Hadley's POV

I was about to enter the coffee shop when I heard the screeching of brakes and the honking of a horn. But more than that, I heard the haunting sound of a body thudding against a moving vehicle. People were screaming, running, and dialing 911. I ran toward the body, it's in my nature to be compassionate, and I desperately wanted to be a doctor when I grew up. I wanted to help people, and now was my chance. I rushed over to help any way I could, and I was astonished by what I saw. My hands flew over my mouth, which was open in a silent scream. The man lying on the ground, the victim, was none other than Spencer Reid.

I crouched down beside him without a thought, taking his pulse. People were crowded around, staring openmouthed. "DO SOMETHING !" I yelled. "Get something to prop his head up with !" One kind woman took off her sweater, and I bunched it under his head. I couldn't believe that these people were just standing around while a fifteen year old girl tried to save a man's life ! I held his hand, trying to get him to return to consciousness. If he died, I would NEVER forgive myself, not ever. I had helped talk him down from suicide only a few days before, only to have him be hit by a car now ? This wasn't right. He couldn't die, not now, and not like this. I wasn't being selfish here, I needed him to stay alive not for myself, but for the world. I couldn't imagine a world without Spencer Reid. The FBI needed him, the team needed him, I needed him. He was needed.

"He is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen and it's not about his face, but the life force I can see in him. It's the smile and the pure promise of everything he has to offer. Like he's saying, 'Here I am world, are you ready for so much passion and beauty and goodness and love and every other word that should be in the dictionary under the word life?' Except this boy is dead, and the unnaturalness of it makes me want to pull my hair out. It makes me want to yell at the God that I wish I didn't believe in. For hogging him all to himself. I want to say, 'You greedy God. Give him back. I needed him here."  
― Melina Marchetta, _On the Jellicoe Road_

Spencer's POV

My body thwacked hard as it rolled up onto the hood of the vehicle, and thudded again as I hit the concrete, my head smacking the ground. The wind was knocked out of me, and stars swam around my head. I was hearing everything as if through a tunnel, like I was somehow detached from the world now. And suddenly someone was leaning over me, and I recognized the face, the face of my savior time and time again, Hadley. I let my eyes drift close, knowing she would take care of me. Her light hands were on my wrist, then on my face, lifting my head gently to cushion it with an unknown object. She held my hand, squeezing with gentle pressure every few moments. I felt something small and wet splash on my shirt. Blood ? No….tears. She was crying, crying over me, crying FOR me. She truly did care, but I had been careless. I had been ready to throw my life away, then fate had intervened and gave me another chance, and I had thrown that away too. Had I blown my own flame out ? Was this it for me ? I was sorry now, so sorry for everything I had done to take life for granted. Sorry mostly that I had taken those close to me for granted.

I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn't find the strength. All I could do was squeeze back slightly on Hadley's hand, reassuring her I was trying to hold on. And I was, but I didn't know just how strong I was.

"I would give anything, anything, to be the man to whom this has not happened. I cannot accommodate myself to it. In a lifetime of trying, I cannot accommodate myself to it.

"Did you say it ?" I _love you. I don't ever wanna live without you. You changed my life. _"Did you say it ?" Make a plan, set a goal, work toward it. Because it might all be gone tomorrow.

**Chapter Ten**

Hadley's POV

Eyelids fluttering, Spencer squeezed my hand back. I cried harder, praying to any God that may or might not exist to just let him live. I didn't know how many internal injuries he had, or head injuries for that matter. People were still crowded around, just staring openmouthed. I hadn't even been aware of the sirens, but the ambulance had arrived. It had seemed to me that the whole world had stopped; the people on the street, the cars, me and Spencer…. I had only been thinking of our private bubble of people, and him and I.

A paramedic rushed over and pushed me aside, and another came over to me and helped me up, leading me to the back of the ambulance. He tried to comfort me, and sat me down on the bench inside that would soon be directly across from Spencer. He then left to help wheel the stretcher up, and I was left to my own accord. I watched in silence as someone I barely knew, yet felt very close to, fought for their life. The first medic was talking about the risks involved since Spencer had hit his head. "Encephalitis and concussion." I said absently. They both looked at me, surprised, but I wasn't paying attention. "What's this guy's name ?" One of them asked me. I was appalled at the casually way he said that, like he wasn't concerned at all. "Dr. Spencer Reid," I told him, emphasizing the doctor. They both looked impressed, probably due to his young age and appearance, but said nothing. The ride to the hospital was eerily silent except for the wailing of the siren. I realized that I should probably call his team members, but I obviously didn't know how to get a hold of them, and it was a Saturday, so it's not like he would be late for work and they would look for him. I finally thought to grab his phone out of his pocket. I squeezed his hand and went to the waiting room as we arrived at the hospital. I looked through his contacts, surprised at the short list. I tried to place the names with faces, and decided to call Agent Gideon. I remembered him as being almost grandfatherly-like, and I also remembered the look in Reid's eyes when he looked at him. He was definitely important to Spencer somehow. I was very nervous to call him, but I knew it had to be done. I looked at my lap, dialing the number and anxiously awaiting an answer.

"H-hello ? Uh, Agent Gid-e-on ?" My voice kept cracking and breaking. "Um, this is Hadley ?" My voice rose at the end like it was a question. I swallowed hard and proceeded. "Spencer's been in an accident. A car accident. I think he's gonna be okay, but…. I don't know. Can you get here quick ? Yeah. Okay. See you then." I closed my phone and sat with my hands in my lap. "Doctor Spencer Reid ?" A doctor read off from a chart, looking up. I jumped up, raising my hand a little so he would know that I was the one waiting for an update. The doctor motioned for me to come closer. "You're a little young to get this news, don't you think ? I'm not sure I feel comfortable with you here alone…." He told me. "Is he…?!" I questioned, horrified. "Oh no, no." He patted my shoulder. "He is very much alive. Are you uh Hay-de-lee ?" He asked me, sounding unsure. He checked the clipboard again. "Yes, I'm Haaa-dley." I told him, raising my eyebrows. "Why…" I questioned, skeptical. "Dr. Reid has been asking for you. How old are you ?" He looked me up and down. "I'm fifteen." I hoped that was old enough to see him on my own. "Then come on back with me," the doctor said. "I'm Dr. Jackson, by the way." I turned to follow him, but a voice behind me stopped me. It was Gideon and most of the other agents, save for the quirky blonde one. I waved to them, and they rushed over. Agent Morgan grabbed the top of my arms and practically shook me, demanding to know what had happened. Dr, Jackson all but yanked him off of me, and they started to argue. Agent Prentiss, I think, finally pulled Morgan to the side, talking in hushed tones with him. The doctor glared at us. "Only two visitors at a time. He was asking for the girl, and….you." He pointed to Gideon. You're the boy's father, correct ? Gideon didn't hesitate "Yes."

I thought it was sweet that Gideon thought of Reid as a son, and I smiled. Doctor J led us down a corridor and turned, opening the door for us. "Guys !" Spencer said, his voice hoarse. He tried to sit up, and winced. His head was wrapped with a bandage, and he had various IV drips stuck into his arm. He looked pointedly at Agent Gideon, and said "It's only saline solution. They insisted." The older agent nodded. I furrowed my brows, but let it go. "How're you feeling ?" I smoothed his hair down, forcing a smile. "Like I've been hit by a car," he said, wincing again and adjusting his gown. Gideon pulled up a chair. "So what happened Spencer ? And what is the extent of your injuries ?" "I have two broken ribs, a mild concussion, and some stitches on my head. I had a collapsed lung too, but it's already been taken care of. I uh, I didn't see the car, and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground, and Hadley was there." Agent Gideon turned to me. "Yeah, I was going to a coffee shop and the next thing you know, I hear someone being hit by a car and I ran to help and it was Spencer." I offered. "It was fate. She saved my life." Spencer told him. I blushed, "No I didn't !" "No one else even tried to help, but she was there." Spencer insisted. "It's a good thing then." Gideon said as he patted my shoulder. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I stepped out of the room to take the call. It was my mom, demanding to know where I was. She didn't know about Spencer, and I didn't feel like explaining the situation, so I just told her the coffee shop. She wanted me home. I sighed, clicking my phone shut. I peeked my head in the door where the cranky agent and the big burly one sat. I explained the situation to Spencer, and to him to text or call me later. Then I remembered I had his phone. I blushed again as I tossed it to him. His muscular friend caught it with one hand without turning around. "Impressive," I said. I was walking hurriedly out of the hospital when a stranger came up and hugged me tight. It wasn't a stranger at all, it was Spencer's eccentric blonde friend…Penelope I think ? She thanked me for 'saving Reid's life', then rushed into the hospital to see him. I shrugged, speed walking home.

"Time is tricky. You have whole months, even years, when nothing changes a speck, when you don't go anywhere or do anything or think one new thought. And then you can get hit with a day or an hour, or half a second, when so much happens its almost like you are born all over again into some brand-new person you for damn sure never expected to meet."

—

Life is Funny

We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.

—Fyodor Dostoyevsky

**Chapter Eleven**

Spencer's POV

My eyelids twitched as I squeezed Hadley's hand. She sobbed harder, staying kneeled beside me until the ambulance came and she was lead away.

I could hear everything, but the pain was too great to open my eyes. I was vaguely aware of people touching me, paramedics maybe ? The person fussing over me lifted me onto a stretcher and loaded me into the ambulance. I was starting to drift off, but I focused hard on the conversations going on around me. Hadley's sobs had stilled, but I was pretty sure she was still around somewhere. One medic was talking to another about the risks involved since I had hit my head. "Encephalitis and concussion." Came Hadley's voice, sounding distant. "What's this guy's name ?" One of them asked her. "Dr. Spencer Reid," She told him, emphasizing the doctor. I was glad that she had remembered that part, it was oddly comforting.

The next thing I remember was being stuck with needles and complaining. I made them promise me no morphine, no matter how much it hurt me. They complied, but still stuck a saline solution drip into my arm. I was afraid of what the others would think when they saw me…My team ! Had Hadley alerted them ? I desperately hoped they had, I needed them. They were my family.

I drifted off again, the pain overwhelming me at last. But I had done it, I had refused the narcotics. What felt like hours later, I was woken up by a nurse. She was checking my vitals, and I asked her if I could have visitors. I was surprisingly alert. "Hadleyyy." I moaned. The pain had not gotten any better. The nurse looked sympathetic. "What dear ?" Then-"Are you sure you don't want any pain meds ?" I shook my head, muttering about wanting to see Hadley. I had to thank her. She was always there to save me.

I looked curiously out the window through the slats in the blinds- someone was coming down the hall. I hoped it was actual visitors instead of another doctor or nurse. The door swung open, and in walked my mentor, Jason Gideon, and my savior, Hadley. "Guys !" I said excitedly, my voice dry. I tried to sit up further, but it hurt too much. I looked worriedly at Gideon, and frantically said "It's only saline solution. They insisted." He nodded, and Hadley crinkled her brows together in confusion. "How're you feeling ?" She asked, coming to sit on the edge of my bed and smoothing my hair down. "Like I've been hit by a car," I said seriously, wincing and self-consciously adjusting my ridiculous hospital gown. Gideon pulled up a chair. "So what happened Spencer ? And what is the extent of your injuries ?" "I have two broken ribs, a mild concussion, and some stitches on my head. I had a collapsed lung too, but it's already been taken care of. I uh, I didn't see the car, and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground, and Hadley was there."Gideon turned to look at Hadley, as if to confirm the validity of the story, almost as if he suspected there was more. Profilers. "Yeah, I was going to a coffee shop and the next thing you know, I hear someone being hit by a car and I ran to help and it was Spencer." She said with sincerity. "It was fate. She saved my life." I told him, being honest. I was just talking about today either. She blushed, deeply, insisting- "No I didn't !" "No one else even tried to help, but she was there." I reassured him. "It's a good thing then." Gideon said as he placed a hand on her shoulder. Her phone vibrated, and she stepped out of the room to take the call. Gideon left as well, seeming relieved. Morgan and Hotch came in next, Morgan fuming mad over a dispute with one of the doctors. I again had to re-tell my tale, being sure to keep my details the same. You couldn't be too cautious with profilers, and if I had told them the real story, they would have me checked into the psych ward. They would tell me I was schizophrenic for certain, or doing Dilaudid again.I sighed, clicking my phone shut. Hadley poked her head in the door, explaining that she needed to go home now. She thought for a minute, then blushed and tossed me my phone and told me to contact her later. Morgan, being a show-off, continued talking to me and caught it with one hand, without turning around. "Impressive," She noted. She shut the door and left. I was concerned with being alone with Hotch and Morgan, sure that they would ask me again to explain how exactly I had met Hadley.

"I think you can't always wait for someone to fly underneath you and save your life. I think sometimes you have to save yourself."

**Chapter Twelve**

Hadley's POV

When I arrived home about fifteen minutes later, my parents were rushing around madly getting ready. My dad filled me in, telling me that they were going out with the Henderson's. The Henderson's live hours away, and every once in a while they come down and go out on the town with my parents. They all knew each other in high school and are my parents closest friends. I smiled to myself, this meant I would have the house to myself for most of the night. It was awkward to think that my parents were going out on a Saturday night and I was not, but I could deal with it. Within half an hour, they were off, and I was alone.

I started practicing again, because we added some new styles of songs to our resume. Somehow I got to dancing around sexily (or attempting to) to the Pussycat Dolls' "When I grow up." Eventually I collapsed on the couch and began to watch a movie. I woke up to a crashing sound. My mom was nowhere in sight, but my Dad was drunk. I was surprised, I should've been expecting it though. They barely ever went out with friends unless it was Friday night. By the looks of it, he had really let loose. I scrambled up from the couch, silently cursing myself. If I had thought ahead, this whole situation could have been avoided. I shut off the tv, heading for my room. But my dad caught me. If I ignored him, I would be in more trouble, so I turned around when he called my name. "Haaadlee, girl, whatchu doin' up ?" He stumbled toward me, smiling drunkenly. "Nothing," I said, ducking my head and trying to get to my room. He smacked me on the back of the head. So it was gonna be this type of night. I looked around for my mom, because I could tell he was just getting started. "Hay, I'm talkin' to yous !" He snapped. "Sorry," I muttered. "Don't you backsass me bitch !" He smacked me again. I threw my hands up to deflect the blow, and he started full-blown yelling. "Don't you try to hit me ! Who do you think you are ? Huh ? Huuuh ?" I honestly couldn't understand why my Dad acted like this under the influence of alcohol. It was baffling. But before I knew it, we got into one of the worst fights we ever had, yelling back and forth, him occasionally smacking me around. He poured another drink, and I stupidly tried to take it away from him. He looked at me with fury in his eyes. The next thing I know, the crystal drinking glass was being thrown at me. It shattered behind me as I shied away, but a few shards cut into my arm. I tried to run at this point, but he had me literally backed into a corner. He smacked me again, so hard that my head flew back and hit the wall. My neck strained with whiplash, and I fell to the floor at the pain in the back of my head. He took this opportunity to kick me repeatedly in the ribs. I was crying at this point, begging him to stop. How could my mom not hear this ? We had been fighting for almost an hour, yelling and crashing and breaking things. I tried to reach for my cell phone to call for help, but he kicked it out of my hand, and it clunked against the wall three feet away. A hard blow to the face temporarily blinded me, and soon I was just distancing myself from the pain to survive. I thought about how this was my fault, if I had thought to prepare for this, none of this wouldn't have happened. If I had talked to someone about this….slowly, I began to realize how the beatings had progressively gotten worse over the last few weeks. But somehow, I still believed it was my fault.

Suddenly I realized that the beating has stopped. I was curled in a ball with my hands shielding my face. I slowly uncovered my face, and uncurled. I winced as my injuries protested. A cut on my face was bleeding, and I was pretty sure I had a black eye. I struggled to stand, my ribs screaming in pain. I collapsed on my knees, gasping. I reached for my phone and clutched it in my hand, but I didn't make a call. I crawled to my room, shutting and locking the door. I broke down, feeling the same emotions I felt the night I almost committed suicide. I needed a way to quell my pain, before I did something stupid again. Across the room, I spotted something that caught my eye. A blade.

A pair of shiny silver scissors sat on my desk. I had a sudden idea, a way to get rid of the emotional pain I felt. If I cut myself, then I would be in control of my pain, not my father or anyone else. I stood cautiously, gripping the scissors in my hand. I opened them, and softly placed the sharp blade on my left wrist. I hesitated, but I knew that if I didn't do this, I would go crazy. I needed to be in charge of something, or I would completely break down. This was a compulsion, not a choice.

I made a tiny, barely deep cut, then took a deep breath and slashed. Thick crimson blood spilled over my pale skin. It stung, but in a strangely good way. I hadn't cut deep enough to kill me or anything, just enough to let my blood spill out my secrets and pain. I didn't care about the scar it would leave, after all, it was only one. I didn't know it would turn into an addiction.

I let the blood run free before I dabbed at it with a napkin. But as soon as it was gone, I missed it. I longed for the feeling again. And so I made another slash, diagonal, underneath it. No one would know that I had made them on purpose, and besides, it was fall, so that meant long sleeves. I wouldn't let myself cut again, so I spent some time nursing away the sting. I looked in the mirror before bed, and a black and blue face stared at me. A dark purple bruise had formed around my right eye, and a blue bruise was prominent on my jaw. Only one lone tear fell from my eye this time as I closed my eyes.

"I stare at my reflection in the mirror:  
"Why am I doing this to myself?"  
Losing my mind on a tiny error,  
I nearly left the real me on the shelf."

"Under the cover of darkness, people do things they'd never do under the harsh glare of day. Decisions feel wiser. People feel bolder. But when the sun rises, you have to take responsibility for what you did in the dark. And face yourself under the cold, harsh light of day."

Chapter Thirteen

Spencer's POV

After visiting hours, everyone went home to get some sleep. I myself fell into a pretty peaceful slumber. I woke up and realized I had forgotten to text Hadley. It was now three AM, and I didn't want to text her an apology for fear of waking her up. I sighed, rolling over.

I woke up to a nurse in my room at around nine AM. I had arrived at the hospital mid afternoon yesterday, and I would be going home tomorrow evening. I fumbled with my phone, hastily texting Hadley "I am very sorry I didn't text message you last night, but I had fallen asleep due to the pain medication. Forgive me ?" I wondered if she was mad, and if that was why SHE hadn't texted ME. I hid my phone again, and tried to choke down some hospital food to get my strength up. The team had work, so they probably wouldn't be around, and even if they were, not until after six. I had the whole day to myself, which I hated. I didn't mind being alone, after all, I had spent much of my life alone, but it meant I had too much time to think. To look at the needles stuck in my arm and remember. I couldn't pretend that the doctors hadn't noticed the old track marks in my arm, that my teammates hadn't been worried about me receiving narcotics, that I wasn't worried about me receiving narcotics myself.

So I just shut it all out and went to sleep, but my nightmares inevitably woke me up a short time later. A nurse was shaking me awake, seeming deeply concerned. She asked me if I wanted sedatives, and I declined, I certainly did not want any more drugs than strictly necessary. She left the room, glancing back at me as she left. I gave her a weak smile, then dialed Hadley's number. One, two, three rings, and she never picked up. I called again a short time later, with no answer again. I was beginning to get very worried, because she hadn't showed up here and it wasn't like I could just leave the hospital to go find out where she was. But I told myself that she would show up here later, or call me back with some frantic explanation and crazy story that I would make myself believe for fear of uncovering the truth- that she didn't want to see me anymore.

"We often delude ourselves into believing the lie for fear of facing the truth."

Hadley's POV

I woke up stiff and sore all over, barely able to get out of bed. It was already noon, and I had two missed calls from Spencer. But I couldn't bring myself to call him back. He was a profiler, he would know that my lie was bullshit if I made up some excuse about why I couldn't go see him today. I couldn't lie, not to him. I turned on my tv, afraid to get up and move around, much less see a mirror. Shortly thereafter, my mom came in, and I ducked my head, shielding my face. I told her that I was really sick, and she believed me. If I was lucky, I could get out of school tomorrow too. I'd just have to play it safe. I felt bad making her and my dad wait hand and foot on me all day, making me soup, bringing me juice, but I HAD to stay in bed. There was no physical way that I could get up and go about my day. Spencer kept calling, and eventually texted me "Was it something I did ? I just need to know that you are okay."I felt horrible, but I turned my phone off. There was no way I could get a Fed involved in this, my whole life could go up in flames. Or what was left of it…..

My mom let me stay home from school, so I was home alone all day while she and my dad went to work. I had made her keep the light off in my room all day yesterday, claiming I had a terrible headache, which I did, but it was mostly to hide the bruises from her. The second she left for work though, I hauled myself out of bed, lightly stretching. I strode to the mirror after flicking the light on, and forced myself to look in it. I DID look like I was actually sick- dark circles under my eyes, accompanied by bags, and my entire face was swollen. I looked like I had had an allergic reaction or something, there were red spots everywhere. Purple and blue also dotted my face and my entire body. My right eye not only had dark under it but all around it, where my dad had landed his left hook square on my eye socket. I spent the rest of my exciting Monday moping around feeling sorry for myself. Well, technically I spent most of it on the couch, unless I was making soup or going to the bathroom. I smeared on about a pound of cover-up, and it helped some. I used every makeup trick possible, and I looked almost normal when I was done. It was a good thing I was "sick" though, because I still looked pretty haggard. I went to bed early, and that was pretty much my life.

The next morning I stumbled out of bed, rushing to put makeup on my face before my mom came in. I dressed in yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, not caring how I looked for once. The bruising was fading, so that meant I could see Spencer soon. He would probably be coming home today, so somehow I would need to fabricate an excuse for my absence the last few days… School passed in a blur, and when I got home, my mom had put a note on the fridge "Be back later, love you." Nothing else. I wonder where she could be, alone, because my dad was at work….I cast that thought aside and spread out my homework. I had a huge history essay due, so I pulled that out first. After about an hour of hardcore making up bullshit, I started to get distracted. By the scars on my wrist. My sleeves were pulled up, and I stared at them. I didn't regret them, they made me feel powerful. I did that, I told myself. Not anyone, me. I had been in charge of my pain, I had inflicted it. I pushed my book away, and grabbed a small knife from the holder in the kitchen. I sat down, cross legged in the middle of the room, preparing. Just as I sliced, I heard footsteps. I looked up, shocked, dropping the knife, which resounding with a metallic clang. It was the only thing that shattered the deafening silence.

_"And yet to every bad, there is a worse."_

_Spencer's POV_

_My day passed much the same, until I was allowed to go home late Tuesday. Around five o'clock, Morgan came to help me home from the hospital. I tried to act natural, but I was a horrible liar. I kept fidgeting and looking around, and he finally asked me what was bothering me. "Just anxious to get home," I lied smoothly. Guess I wasn't such a bad liar after all, I thought. And in a way, I was. But not to relax like he thought, in fact, just the opposite. I was anxious to get home to leave again, to go to Hadley's I just had to know that she was alright, it was eating me alive. She had described the whereabouts of her home to me once, and I was pretty sure I could find it._

_I raced, well, as fast as I could go, to my apartment, thanking Morgan hurriedly. He chuckled, but let it go and left. I tried to fix up my appearance, but I still looked nerdy as ever. I sighed, but put on my coat and grabbed my cell phone. Hotch was giving me a couple more days, until Friday, off, and that included driving. I didn't mind that, I preferred to walk, but now I wished I could get there sooner._

_It took me fifteen minutes to find her house, a nice one story house with white shutters. It was a cheery yellow, and leaves littered the yard, but in a pretty, in-your-face fall sort of way. I could see a light on in the late evening night, shining through a single front window. I knocked on the door, but no one answered. I peered in through the window, and I could faintly see Hadley. She looked like she was slumped over on the floor ! I didn't hesitate as I picked the lock, something I had actually learned from Morgan. I crossed the living room quickly, confused on the picture before me. She was definitely well, moving and breathing. But why was she sitting on the floor, alone ? Had she been ignoring me, or was the kitchen too far away for her to hear my knock ? It did seem to be a bit of a distance. I craned my neck, walking closer. She didn't turn. When I was not two feet behind her, she jumped a little, and something fell from her grasp, bouncing on the floor. For a moment, my brain effused to comprehend what I was seeing, my eyes tried to deceive me. I tried to fathom the knife and the blood, but as many times as I had seen it before, this time I couldn't place the context. Why would Hadley self-harm ? I thought I had been helping, I really did. Was it me ? Was I the reason for the fresh cut on her wrist ? My mind raced, all of those thoughts coming one after another for a few mere seconds. She turned then, her expression one of horror. I'm sure mine was the same. She jumped up, but no apology came out of her mouth. I lunged forward, grabbing her wrist. She shied back before I could grasp it. I snatched a towel from near the sink, putting pressure on the wound. Neither of us said anything, but the silence was deafening. I tried to catch her eye as I stopped the bleeding, but she just kept staring down. Was she ashamed, maybe ? No, I couldn't detect any shame, it was something else, something different entirely. I flashed back to Nathan Harris, a young unsub who had slashed his wrists in an attempt of suicide. I felt her posture change, and she looked up to meet my intense stare. Sickly yellow bruises looked back at me, along with dark purple and navy blue abrasions, covering her face and neck. I didn't see it before, but they also covered her arms. She stared back at me, unblinking. As if she was daring me to comment. Who had done this ? I would find them and….I didn't know what I would do, but I had to do something. Someone would pay for this._

"I know what pain and suffering is. I know what death is. I know what it's like to feel completely alone. I have been through hell and back. I know what you're feeling like. And my heart aches for you."

Chapter Fifteen

Hadley's POV

_I jumped up, but no words could describe this moment. Spencer lunged forward, snatching at my arm. Unthinkingly, I flinched away from his touch. He acted like he didn't notice, but he grabbed at a towel from the counter, applying pressure on the cut. There were no words exchanged, but the soundlessness was as loud as anything__. __He kept trying to catch my eye, but I stared at my feet, unwilling to let him see my bruises. He probably thought I was so pathetic __! __Finally, I decided there was no use in hiding, he had already seen me at my worst, twice…. I gazed up at him, my look unwavering, unblinking. His eyes visibly widened, and his brow crinkled a bit, like he was confused. "I never thought I would be this person. I never thought that I'd be this weak, this…broken. I tried to find other ways, I tried to live the life I imagined for myself but I can't. I can't pretend that I don't feel lost and scared and sad every moment of every day. I can't pretend that I don't wish that I were dead, that I don't know others wish me dead as well. The impact my life has made is but a ripple, a crinkle in the fabric that will straighten out when I finally disappear. _I spend all my time wishing that I were invisible. Outside, the leaves are falling to the ground, and I'm infinitely sad, sad down to my bones. I'm sad for the leaves that are dying, and I'm sad for myself, for something that I have lost. I wish that I were like a leaf, able to fade out so quickly with such beauty, then blow away, far away, only to re-bloom a whole new leaf and do it all over again."

He looked at me with such intensity, with such concentration as I spoke that I thought he was going to break a sweat. I felt like my rambling had made no sense, like it was all just words spilling out of me, because there was no real way to describe me, to describe the inside of my mind. Except maybe "Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes they win." "You remind me a lot of myself," He finally said. But even then, I was sure he had never been as stupid as me. "I get addiction. I get that you know it's wrong, but at the same time you know it's right. I used to be addicted to Dilaudid, basically drug store heroin. I know the emptiness without your addiction, the fullness with it. I know the little voice that comes with it, urging you, telling you that it's okay, that you need it. I know what it's like to feel lost and unsure and just WRONG, all the time. I've been there. But I'm coming back from it, and you can too. I came back from it because of you. You shoved me off the ledge to the safe side, showed me that things aren't always set in stone. Don't do this to yourself. Please. For me." "I don't know what to say." I told him, my voice sounding dead. "You can start by telling me who did this to you," He replied, gesturing toward my face. I opened my mouth to speak, or to lie, rather, but nothing came out. I shut it again, my mind racing to come up with an excuse. "That's why you didn't come to see me, isn't it ?" He spoke aloud, but it sounding more like he was thinking to himself, like he had just put two and two together. I chose not to say anything. I knew it was useless to try and weasel myself out of this predicament, so I would let him think what he wanted. "How long have you been….?" He motioned to my wrist. "Um, this is only my third time. I just um…uh, started last…last night." I stammered out a response, feeling idiotic. I wonder if he was telling the truth about being addicted to drugs. I could not imagine that in the slightest, but I was glad he felt comfortable enough with me to tell me. I wondered if his co-workers knew… I felt as if I was only making his life harder, because now not only did he have to struggle with himself, he had to struggle to take care of me, when he barely knew me. I could tell he felt responsible for me, although we had just met. He had just gotten out of the hospital, and here I was, being completely selfish. I was supposed to be taking care of him. I really could mess just about anything up, couldn't I ?

"There is an ache in my heart for the imagined beauty of a life I haven't had, from which I had been locked out, and it never goes away."  
― Robert Goolrick, _The End of the World as We Know It: Scenes from a Life_

_"_Sometimes there are no words, no clever quotes to neatly sum up what's happened that day. Sometimes you do everything right, everything exactly right, and still you feel like you failed. Did it need to end that way? Could something have been done to prevent the tragedy in the first place?… Like I said, sometimes there are no words, no clever words to neatly sum up that day. Sometimes, the day just… ends."

Chapter Sixteen

Hadley's POV

I woke up, startled. What a weird dream, it had been so detailed….it was my life in an alternate universe. I decided to go on a walk to clear my head, so I walked past the bridge from my dream. I kept touching my hair to make sure it was still long; the dream seemed so real and really freaked me out. I wish I really did have a band and could sing like that in real life ! A movement behind me caught my eye, and I turned around. It was Spencer Reid.

The truth about forever is that it is happening right now.

Spencer's POV

I shuddered, writhing about in my bed. I opened my eyes, sitting up. Had it all been a dream It was the most tragic, strange, wonderful dream he had ever had….It left him feeling odd, because it had seemed so real. It really felt like his life. How had he conjured up such a crazy story ? Especially about a stranger he had never met ? Surely he must have read or seen a plotline like that somewhere, and it stuck with him and manifested itself in a dream…that must be it. For a brief moment he considered that somehow he had jumped from the bridge and that he was dead, but his ringing phone brought him back to reality. Duty calls. He got dressed and locked his door, walking to work. He decided to walk past the bridge from his dream, just to be sure. As he neared it, he stopped and caught his breath. It was the girl from his dream.

"I want to try and live my life carrying all my memories. And if even if the memories are painful, even if they do nothing burt hurt me, I want to keep them. Even those memories I sometimes I wish I could forget. As long as I carry them with me, as long as I can keep holding on, then some day, some day, I'll be strong enough that those memories don't hurt me anymore. I'll be glad that I have them. That's what I want. With all my heart. That's why all my memories are precious to me. I don't think it would be okay to forget a single one."


End file.
